.
.: Chapter III :.
Charles Grey
"The Baker's Daughter" pt.1
. . .
The streets of Preston savaged by poverty were one of the gloomiest things Gray had ever seen. The palette of clothing was very dull. Only ranging from faded maroons, browns, and beiges. The pets looked about as plump and well-fed as the scavenging strays, and the outside smelled but the indoors were stuffy. Yet as they walked Forever Street, the people smiled and laughed. The children played with their beaten toys and chipping wooden swords, the adults snickered and guffawed at meager gossip and cheesy jokes. Grey wondered what was there to be so happy about when they all had so little. He would never see anything like this in London. London was a huge, bustling city and it's ghettos were more cautious and outcasting than this strange town. When he and Phipps walked by, the people of Forever didn't scrutinize or glare, they beamed and greeted them with "hellos" and "good mornings".
This was Gray's third time outside the London circle and his first time in Preston and he had to admit; he was already bored.
"Why are we here again, Phipps?"
"We are checking to see if there is anything left from Phantomhive's last investigation."
"Augh..." Grey grimaced. "Are we being punished again? That sounds like a job you'd give to a maid."
"If it consoles you, it's up to us to finish the job if there's anything left. I'll let you handle it, if you want."
Grey crossed his arms and puffed his cheeks. "I still feel like a maid."
A child with tattered clothes and a cardboard box on his head, supposedly made to look like a knight's helm, ran past Phipps. A sharp needle was drawn and a white flash surrounded the child, yet seconds later all was in it's place. The child stopped and blinked, wondering what on earth just happened until he noticed that the holes in his brown pants were mended. "Cool!" He shrilled, before running to catch up to his friends shouting about a fairy.
Phipps tucked the thread and needle back into his flawless coat, smiling.
"What the hell..."
"A butler is always prepared to respond to any emergency, Grey."
The young man only shook his head and returned to observing the street. "You're weird."
After a few more minutes of walking aimlessly, peering curiously at wares and goods, and Phipps being odd, they decided to retire within a bakery. It was at the very end of the street and it's outside was painted a bit brighter compared to the rest of the merchant shops, like the last flower in a bouquet of dead leaves.
The rich scent of butter and sugar wafted across the air, waltzing with the perfume of brilliant poppies and joyful primroses(probably from that annoying flower lady across the street) that littered the tables of the shop. It made the inside feel warm, much like home.
A dark haired man walked out from a back room seconds after the bell's jaunty chime, eyes immediately going wide with surprise at the sight of Grey and Phipps' outlandish attire. "Well good morning, gentlemen! What can I do for you?"
"What's fresh today, sir?"
The man grinned welcomingly , highlighting the creases around his mouth that have only begun to form. "Please, call me Raeleigh!
This mean seemed awfully cheerful, much like the rest of the bunch they had seen on their trip so far. But something about him screamed, maybe from the soothing tones in his voice or the warmth radiating from his hazel eyes, that he was probably a father. Or just a very, very kind man.
"The freshest thing I have at the moment is sweet bread and a I've got a couple of cherry pies cooling in the back."
"I'll just have some tea, please."
"I'll take one whole pie."
"...what?" The smile on his face continued, but the dumbfounded look in his eyes was crystal clear.
"You heard me, Raeleigh~"
The baker burst out in a raucous laughter, startling the few customers in the back having a peaceful breakfast. "You've got an appetite, huh? Well, coming right up." He wiped the white dust powdering his palms onto his apron and headed toward the back again. "Also, I'm sorry, it's morning so I haven't finished the goods I've planned for today. And my daughter's out making deliveries, still."
Grey scoffed, musing on the fact that he was correct. Though, he could catch a hint of worry dismayed in Raeleigh's bright tones. He and Phipps waded to the nearest table, trying to settle themselves on the unplushed, wooden chairs that groaned with overuse and age. Grey finally found solace in resting the heels of his shoes, one ankle over-crossing the other, on the table as he tilted on the chair's back legs.
"Grey." Phipps looked at him pointedly.
"What?" He mumbled quietly. "The tables look filthy anyway. He should really get his daughter to scrub these."
As if on queue, the bell dangling above the door announced the entrance of a young, fair-skinned girl with much of her dark hair captured in an ashy brown bonnet. Grey watched her skip happily to the front counter, peering into the back and setting the woven basket she carried next to an intricately painted flower vase.
If only he could lie and say that he had seen girls like her before, but he couldn't. In the sea of labor-stricken faces, she was like that wish in a bottle that you would come across once or twice within a lifetime. And boy, had he wished for her in his most private moments.
"Daddy~! I finished all the deliveries." From the soft undertones of her voice, Grey guessed that he may be at least a few years her senior, but it wasn't like men these days married women their own age.
Raeleigh stepped out from the back room again, stern-faced and a platter in hand readied with what Phipps recognized to be their order.
"All of them?"
She nodded, making her shoulder length curls bounce. "I went a little further down the street this time, but I was careful."
"Sweetheart, I told you not go past the doll-maker's shop without me."
"But it's not that far! And everyone here's nice."
Raeleigh pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to keep his laxed demeanor, while his daughter swayed innocently.
"Soo...Daddyy~ Can I make the afternoon deliveries, too?"
"Honey, I-"
"Pleeeaaasssee~? I never see anything beyond Forever." She continued to beg and plead. Her back was turned to Grey, but from the conflicted look in Raeleigh's face he could tell that she was batting her lashes.
"...Only around the corner, no farther than Wesley's Tailoring."
"Hoooraaay~"
Raeleigh dragged on a long, skeptical sigh as he moved the platter towards his daughter. "Now give this to those two gentlemen over there."
She turned and catered to them with a gem of a smile. "Good morning," the words sprang like an incantation from her lips, and the day was suddenly decent for Grey.
"Good morning, young lady."
"Morning." Grey greeted, brightening as she gingerly set their teacups before them.
Phipps said his thank yous and gently blew on the tea before taking a sip. Right as the warm liquid slithered onto his tongue, he stiffened and went pale in the face. He caught the girl looking at him expectantly, so all he could do was grin and bear it.
She poured Grey's tea next and he took the opportunity of her closeness to survey her face again, but his gaze refused to land on anything but her eyes. Colours flew to her cheeks when she felt his scrutiny as she suddenly felt the desire to retreat under her bonnet.
"Your eyes are beautiful." Grey said, taking back the awkwardness he made. "What colour are they?"
"Uhmmm...p-people tell me they're blue."
"Really? Because I see a little
gray in them."
. . .
Grey withdrew from his recollections. The more he thought about it, the more bizarre everything in that area became. Forever Street? It sounded like something from a cheap novel. And while that bakery's sweets were to die for, it only added to the sugary atmosphere. But he did recall the horrible-tasting tea. What was Raeleigh thinking when he served that? No, it wasn't always Raeleigh who served the tea, it was also his daughter who happily handed him cups upon cups of the disgusting brew. As foul as it was, it always seemed to taste much better coming from her hands.
Grey sighed. He would have to get over soon. That girl would forever be but a fleeting fantasy, and the present wasn't a time to be dwelling on fantasies. Right now, he had a job that needed his attention. He scanned the crowd once more, trying in vain to pick faces out of this horde of wealth.
The Midford Manor was always a sight to behold, especially during the social season. Every rug and carpet had been replaced with an in-style pattern, mostly consisting of earthy colours and various shades of gold. Every hall and corridor was lined with streamers. But the best of the manor was the ballroom. It was a lovely sight to take in earlier that day, but it became much more livelier once night had fallen and guests spilled into the room. The glazed, marble tiles which were blessed with a pristine glow was now at the mercy of tapping shoes and swaying dresses.
However, none of this interested Grey. He didn't even put any effort into dressing for the occasion and went with his usual monochrome uniform. His sole objective tonight was to try and woo Riliane, but he guessed it wouldn't be too hard. She was a loose girl, after all.
It wasn't long until Wynn arrived, striding toward him through an isle of fawning women. Grey gave a disappointed huff when he found that no one else was in his company. "Dashing as ever. I assume your sister is as equally charming tonight?"
"I have a few more things to say to you, Grey." Wynn didn't seem nearly as enthusiastic. His face was still stuck with the same, humorless look he was wearing when he booted Grey out of his manor. The white earl rolled his eyes, finding it impossible how one man could hold his kid sister with so much obsessive protectiveness.
"Riliane isn't some toy, or some prostitute you can pick up on the streets."
Grey nodded absently, secretly disagreeing. He wasn't as blind to the truth as Wynn clearly was. He knew that Riliane was a soiled dove.
"She is my princess, not your conquest."
It was that line that stole the breath from his lungs. He could have sworn that he'd heard those exact words elsewhere. He was sure of it.
"...Where is she?"
"She'll be with us in a moment. She has some business to deal with."
Grey pressed his lips thin, wondering what business a girl like her had but reluctantly decided to drop it in favor of brewing some 'small talk' with Wynn. "Things will be changing for you."
He sighed, already so weary of the thought. "Likely so, but it can't be helped. I've considered the consequences, but I'll just have to do what I can."
"It'll be a hard job for you. I suggest you keep associates so you can be up to date on underground activities. Unless, y'know, you already have people like that in handy." After Grey finished scanning the mob of rich fabric once more, he hadn't expected the confused look Wynn was giving him.
"A job for me?"
In the edges of his vision Grey could spot Phantomhive and his annoyingly dressed fiancée, but that's not what had suddenly caught his interest. The brat was speaking to a young lady fitted in a gown so stark white that it out-shined Grey. They would have matched if it weren't for the golden flavors of lace befitting her curves. He could tell, not from the familiar ebony curls, but from the perfectly exposed shoulders that this was his bride to be.
When she turned around towards some glass-paned doors, the first glimpse of her face had rendered Grey as breathless as earlier.
"Lo and behold..." He grinned slowly, a fire rekindling in his eyes. "The girl who lived at the end of Forever."